


On the Road

by duesternis



Series: Shoot me down and lift me up [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Bike Riding, M/M, Not Overwatch AU, Talking, atrocious outfits, illegal truck riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 13:32:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7620010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duesternis/pseuds/duesternis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things get heated in the retreat and Jesse McCree makes Hanzo Shimada ride in the back of a truck.</p><p>Hanzo asks questions and gets answers. Jesse gets coffee and free realizations.</p><p> </p><p>____<br/>Part three of a series of Crime-syndicate AU ficlets. There will be a continuity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Road

**Author's Note:**

> this is getting out of hand. i blame @waldwasser for all of this.
> 
> u should read the other two installments in this series first, otherwise this will probably make very little sense.
> 
> enjoy ur stay

„This was the worst idea you had so far.“  
Jesse laughed and leaned back against the pack of t-shirts he was lounging on.  
Shimada was sitting on a box of jeans, arms crossed and face really scrunched up. It would have been scary, were it not for the beanie he was wearing.  
„This is undignified and cowardly.“  
„I call it smart, darlin‘.“  
A devastating stare and Jesse lifted his hands in defeat. „Ya had no other idea, so we had t‘ roll with this‘ere. Might not be yer usual style of travellin‘, but it serves it‘s purpose.“ He stretched out on his make-shift bed. „An‘ it‘s comfy.“  
  
Shimada scoffed and crossed his legs. He was wearing a pair of sneakers Jesse had bought from some kid in the streets, one of Jesse‘s sweatpants and a sweater of his, too. Above that a jean jacket Jesse had found in his closet and a scarf with a matching beanie. His leather gloves were tucked into the pocket of the jacket and the duffle bag next to him had his suit and coat. And a gun Jesse had given him.  
It was a ridiculous look.  
Not that Jesse looked any better in his jeans, the dusty sneakers and the duvet jacket.  
Or with the bobble hat. His backpack was under his feet, thick with his usual gear.  
Peacekeeper was a heavy weight in the small of his back.  
  
It reminded him of his fourteen year old self, blood in his mouth, broken skin on his knuckles and a gun in his belt that was too big for his hand and too heavy.  
_„What kid chooses a revolver?“ „A crazy kid. Ain‘t you seen his eyes? He‘s completely bonkers.“_  
Jesse shook his head and looked at Shimada over the bike standing between them.  
„An‘ it‘s not as if we‘re gonna jus‘ let‘em off the hook.“  
A drawn out sigh from Shimada and a weary nod. His eyes were bloodshot and Jesse still remembered the harsh japanese spilling from his mouth into the round reciever of the public phone in the next working subway station from Jesse‘s retreat.  
  
They had gone out not particularly early and neither very late, and not really masqueraded.  
Jesse had shot two men he had drunk with and Shimada had broken a neck with one arm.  
  
„We‘re jus‘ regroupin‘. Which is always a smart thing t‘ do, when yer out in high waters.“  
He shrugged and tried a smile. It stretched the dry skin on his lips uncomfortably, but Shimada looked less deadly afterwards.  
„Why are we taking your motorcycle to New York?“  
„Can‘t jus‘ leave‘er all alone down in the tunnels, now, can I? An‘ we need transport, once this very nice gentleman driving the truck drops us off in Allentown, so yeah. We‘d be quite lost without the pretty girl.“ Jesse gave the side of a wheel a gentle kick and Shimada looked at the swaying bike with small eyes.  
„This time you will not drive too fast.“ Shimada shifted on his seat and stretched his legs out in front of him. The sneakers squeaked on the floor of the truck.  
Jesse just laughed.

 

Hanzo watched McCree sleep for two hours. Then it got boring. And too cold to sit still.  
Not that there was enough space to move well in the badly packed truck. Big boxes of jeans and shirts were thrown haphazardly between huge packs of white t-shirts and in the middle he and McCree were nestled with a motorcycle and a brown paper bag with water and sandwiches.  
Courtesy of the truck driver‘s mother. Who had alluded to a sexual relationship between her and McCree, much to McCree‘s distaste and Hanzo‘s disgust. The woman had been old enough to be McCree‘s mother and, to be truthful, hideous.  
But McCree had evaded all questions and now he was sleeping.  
  
Hanzo stood and paced the few steps he could pace. There was enough space to do push ups and crunches and some easy stretches.  
So he pulled his jacket off, folded scarf and hat atop of it and got to work.  
Slow, deep push ups until he had worked up a sweat and could take off the sweater without freezing. Not that he did, but he could, if he wanted to.  
Then crunches until his breath came in bursts. A small break in which he drained a bottle of water.  
McCree was sound asleep and drooling on his own arm.  
Hanzo stretched until he felt nimble and loose. The uncomfortable buzz under his skin had subsided.  
He sat down again and closed his eyes, letting his body come to rest alongside his mind.  
  
A deep breath and then he let his mind curl around the last few days.  
Two chases, one phone call, three times McCree had made breakfast for them and by now they slept back to back each night.  
The second chase came to mind.  
The fearful looks in the faces of the men sent after them. Not fear of Hanzo, of the unknown force in the game.  
No.  
Fear of the calm face of Jesse McCree and his smoking cigarillo in the corner of his mouth. Fear of the soft way he had said „Howdy, fellas“ before drawing and shooting with a blank face.  
The drawn weapons of the two men had been trained on his chest.  
  
The third man had met the unknown force when he had tried to sneak up on them in the street by the laundromat around the corner.  
McCree had whistled softly and dumped the body in a dumpster. Then they had taken a maze-like way back to the ladder leading up to the roof of the retreat.  
Down the maintenance chute and through the crawl space. McCree had opened the hatch with practised ease and had landed gracefully on the couch table. Hanzo had ignored the outstretched hand.  
  
He opened his eyes now and found the sweat on his skin cooling. He pulled the jacket back on and smoothed the rolled up cuffs.  
Why did the Deadlock Gang want him dead? He hadn‘t asked McCree yet and was unsure why.  
Silently vowing to himself that he would ask the next time they looked at each other.  
Hanzo closed his eyes again and this time to sleep.

 

Jesse slowly came to, woken by his rumbling stomach and an urgent need to piss.  
He groaned, dragged a hand over his face and could basically feel his skin look grey and dead. His beard was getting out of control and he wanted to shower.  
But first things first.  
  
He got himself on his feet and climbed up to the wall that connected to the driver‘s cab.  
He knocked four times against the cold metal and got two taps back.  
With a sigh Jesse got back to the paper bag and helped himself to a few sandwiches. Two bottles of water were already emptied. One they had split between them before Jesse had fallen asleep.  
So Shimada had drained the second one. And would probably be glad about getting to piss at the next possible location too.  
Jesse finished his sandwiches and took a sip of water out of habit. Looked at the curled up sleeping Shimada on the other side of the bike and had to smile.  
It looked ridiculous, how he was lying on the boxes, the patterned scarf draped over his eyes to keep the light out.  
  
With a huge yawn Jesse stretched his spine and felt a few of the disks slide back into place with muted pops. Chuckled and rubbed his lower back with his right hand.  
Then he rummaged through his backpack and pulled a book out from below his serape. He leaned back against the t-shirts and read.  
Read until he felt the unrelenting stare of brown eyes directed at him from the other side of the truck. It didn‘t take too long.  
„Howdy.“ He slowly put his bookmark into place and lifted his eyes from the book. „Slept well?“  
A scoff and Shimada stood. Looked at his wristwatch and sighed. „Will we stop on the road?“  
„Since I need a little break, we‘re gonna stop ASAP.“ Jesse smiled and stretched his legs out as far as they would go.  
Shimada looked at him and then nodded. Their eyes stayed locked and an easy silence draped itself around them.  
  
The truck moved under them, shifted, slowed and then stopped.  
They turned together to look at the back of it. A greyish white, paint flaking.  
The latches shifted, creaked and then one of the doors opened a notch.  
„Come out. It‘s all clear.“  
Jesse poked his head out first and was glad for the burst of cold air lapping around him. He could feel his skin freshen under the wind.  
His sneakers were silent on the tarmac and he missed the jingle of his spurs. Shimada was soundless next to him.  
They walked the empty parking lot to the road station together, the driver staying by the truck.  
Jesse opened the door for Shimada and got not so much as a look as thanks. Distantly he remembered the guy opening the door for Shimada in front of the hotel and smiled to himself. Of course he was used to getting doors held for him.  
  
The waitress leaning against the counter straightened when she saw them. A smile flitted over her young face and McCree wondered for a second when he had started thinking of people in their twenties as ‘young‘.  
„Hi! Can I get you anything?“ A bubblegum stuck to her molars and Jesse grinned his charmer‘s grin at her.  
She flushed prettily and he pulled his bobble hat off, doubling the effect with a shake of his hair.  
„Howdy. Mighty fine o‘ ya. Maybe ya could point us in the direction of the facilities? An‘ one coffee for me an‘ green tea for this fella here.“  
„Sure! Toilets are down there and consider the coffee already brewed.“  
„Thanks.“ A softer version of the grin made her look at her hands with bright red cheeks.  
Shimada just started walking towards the bathroom doors, back ramrod straight and hair hidden under the beanie.  
Jesse folllowed him with a whistle on his lips.

 

Hanzo sat at a sticky table, drinking overbrewed green tea from a mug. Across from him McCree was on his second coffee, chewing on an unlit cigarillo. His eyes were scanning the parking lot constantly.  
Hanzo stretched his legs out and bumped ankles with McCree. Who looked at him, startled.  
Hanzo nodded and a slow smile worked McCree‘s mouth into what was maybe becoming Hanzo‘s favourite shape.  
„We should get back to the truck soon.“  
„Almost done with the coffe, sweetheart. Then we can take to the roads again.“ McCree lifted his mug with his left hand and blindly took a sip, eyes already sticking to the parking lot again.  
The waitress was staring at him from behind the counter, bobbing along to the music spilling out of the radio behind her. It was a catchy tune Hanzo had heard on the radio often in the last few weeks.  
She popped a bubblegum bubble and two pairs of eyes fixated on her coldly. She jerked out of her dreamy staring and laughed sheepishly.  
McCree smiled back at her and downed his coffee. Stood and looked at Hanzo with a lifted eyebrow. A crumpled dollar bill was pushed under the coffee mug.  
Hanzo stood and let McCree open the door again.  
„Bye!“ The waitress waved after them and McCree waved back before he followed Hanzo outside.  
Hanzo opened his mouth to ask, but an urgent gesture from their driver made them jog over to their ride.

 

Allentown was the next stop and Jesse hauled the bike down the ramp.  
Shimada was putting on another layer and Jesse grinned around the finally lit cigarillo in his mouth.  
„Growin‘ fond of it, eh?“  
The red serape momentarily obstructed Shimada‘s glare. „It is cold here. I don‘t want to loose feeling in my hands again.“  
„Oh, darlin‘.“ Jesse chuckled and strapped the bags to the bike. „It‘s alright, jus‘ don‘t lie to yerself, ‘s a real bad habit.“ He grinned up at Shimada and was met with an icy stare.  
He gave the bags an affectionate slap and they didn‘t budge one bit. „Alrighty!“  
Jesse stood and lifted his chaps from the seat of the bike. Strapped them to his legs and belt with movements that had become part of him years ago.  
A soft whistle was carried away by the wind.  
The driver closed the doors of the truck and shook hands with both of them. „Good luck!“  
„Thank you.“ Shimada‘s voice was almost warm. Or at least not outright hostile. Jesse just grinned and sat down on his bike.  
The driver swung himself up into his cabin and drove off again. Jesse blew smoke into the cold air and pulled his glove on.  
Shimada stood next to him, doing the same thing. Together they watched the winding road for a moment.  
  
Then Jesse tossed his almost burned out cigarillo on the ground and took hold of the handles.  
„Then let‘s get goin‘, Hanzo.“ He turned the key in the ignition, but Shimada made no move to get on the bike behind him.  
Jesse looked at him from below and was met with a very serious face. He turned the ignition off again and gathered his hands in his lap.  
„Yes?“  
„I need to ask you something, before we go to New York.“ Shimada didn‘t face him directly, but looked at Jesse over his shoulder. The serape whipped around his shoulders with the gentle but headstrong wind.  
„Ask away.“  
„You might consider it insulting.“ Jesse laughed and shrugged. „Jus‘ get it out‘ere, boy.“  
Shimada looked at him for another moment and then nodded to himself. Turned to face Jesse.  
„Why does the Deadlock Gang want me dead?“  
  
Only the wind playing with an empty can by the end of the parking lot was heard. Jesse felt himself go hot, cold and then hot again.  
He hadn‘t thought that Shimada might ask, but of course. It was a good question.  
Jesse swallowed. And he owed the tiny man an answer.  
„Someone approached the Boss an‘ asked him t‘ strike up a deal‘f sorts an‘ get rid of ya in the meet-up.“ A pause. „Apparently didn‘ work out too well, right?“  
An empty chuckle and Shimada was still only looking at him.  
Jesse shifted on the bike and wanted another smoke suddenly. But he couldn‘t smoke and drive in this weather.  
„You do not know who approached your boss?“ His voice was very level.  
„Nah, no idea. It was a very private phonecall.“  
Another breath of silence, in which Jesse was closely scrutinized.  
Then Shimada‘s eyes lit up and a thin smile shaped around his lips. Phonecalls were traceable and recordable and there were phone bills to check.  
Jesse understood his sudden glee.  
  
„Okay. I will believe you for now.“ Finally Shimada took his seat behind Jesse and wrapped his arms around Jesse‘s waist. „You would not betray me.“  
Jesse swallowed a lump in his throat and turned the ignition on again.  
„Never,“ whispered he into the wind and was glad that no one could look into his heart and see how true it was.


End file.
